She fiddled with her earrings with trembling fingers, as he sat across the room staring at her. She could feel his dark eyes boring into her soul, seeking her darkest secrets. She moved her hand slowly from her ear to her now cold cup of tea, her long slender fingers fidgeting with the once white china. What did he want? She wondered, or did he even want anything? Maybe she was imagining things; maybe he wasn’t staring at her. She shook her head absentmindedly; no, she wasn’t imagining, she can’t possibly be imagining those eyes burning into her own. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the book in front of her.

He stood up abruptly, pulling his eyes away from hers slowly, taking in her trembling hands and the confused look in her big, brown eyes. He walked deliberately close to her, breathing in her faint, flowery scent and sighed as he swiftly left the room. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he will have the courage to tell her that he knows, that he understands her pain and that one day, he will make it better.